I opened the window, and in-flu-enza
by Tiph Aileen
Summary: It's 1918, and the Spanish flu pandemic is set on decimating the world as we know it. Downton Abbey and its inhabitants aren't spared by the disease, and that includes his Lordship's valet, John Bates. Thankfully, his wife Anna and his friends and colleagues are here to help, but it may very well not be enough. Where our Mr. Bates falls ill, and lots of hurt/comfort, angst, & love.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes :** I've played a bit with the timeline here. Anna and John are already married by the time the flu hits Downton, and everyone knows it. They're still live at the Abbey, and there's no prison threat hanging over their heads. I just wanted to write angst, really, and the Spanish flu seemed like a perfect opportunity, so here we go.

* * *

With a final brush, John stepped away from Lord Grantham to make sure that no crease or speck of dust had escaped his vigilance, a small smile on his face as he listened to yet another rant about his probably soon-to-be son in law. It had been going for a while now, and John couldn't say that he hadn't tuned out his employer's voice for the past couple of minutes.

It was his luck that Lord Grantham seemed to be in quite the talkative mood when he himself had been feeling a bit under the weather since he woke up. Nothing more than a cold, or so he hoped, but seeing as how many had already been struck down by the flu epidemic, he had to be realistic. His only chance would be to be spared the most severe symptoms, he was after all, in good health and neither young or old enough to be part of the disease's main group of victims.

"... I'm sure you agree with me on this, right?"

John had to blink a few times to clear the fog in his head and get his brain working properly again, it was getting harder to focus on what his Lordship was saying, something that didn't go unnoticed by the other man.

"Bates, are you alright? You don't look too good."

"I'm fine, my Lord, thank you. It'll pass, it's nothing to worry about."

"On the contrary, it is a worrisome matter," and indeed, there was concern on the Earl's face. "God, not you too", he sighed. "Sit down, I'll fetch someone to help you to your room."

"My Lord, please, it's not necessary, I don't need -"

"I won't have you passed out on the floor, sit down, and that's an order."

John complied, sitting on the chair by the window, still not ready to admit that it did feel good to rest, if only for a second or two, he told himself. His muscles were stiff, and that wasn't taking into account the usual throbbing in his knee. It was still morning, and he was feeling as he sometimes did after a particularly long and tiring day, but without the sensation of accomplishment that came with it.

It barely took a couple of minutes before Lord Grantham came back, with Mrs. Hughes in tow, but it was obvious that despite sitting down, the valet was not doing any better. He seemed paler than he was before, and struggled to his feet when he noticed he wasn't alone anymore.

"My my, you almost look as bad as Mr. Carson does."

She came to stand near him, but Mr. Bates was keen on acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and limped out of the room.

"Thank you Mrs. Hughes, but as I already told his Lordship, I can manage perfectly well on my own." He didn't catch the infuriated look the woman threw at his back.

"As stubborn as ever as you can see, Mrs. Hughes. Would you mind making sure he makes it to his room? I don't want to take any chances." With one last concerned glance, confident that at least one of them would follow his orders, Lord Grantham closed the door of his dressing room, and walked away to eat his breakfast.

"Come on, Mr. Bates, you don't have any choice in this, so let's just get on with it."

Right, thought John, who certainly didn't feel like climbing the stairs up to the attics. At least, it was Mrs. Hughes, and not Thomas whom Lord Grantham had found first, she had after all already seen him during pretty bad times and he trusted her. Mr. Carson was still bedridden, and Miss O'Brien was being unusually compassionate and was staying day and night with Lady Grantham.

The first part of their walk went well, better than both had expected really, but then John's steps started to falter after a while, and he had to slow down his pace considerably.

"I don't have all day, Mr. Bates. Lean on me and we'll get up there a lot faster." It was her no-nonsense tone that did it, and he accepted her help, not wanting to delay her any more than he was already doing. With one hand on his cane and the other on her shoulder, they started to ascend the last flight of stairs. "See, I'm sturdier than I look, no worries here."

* * *

Anna knocked on the door, twice, then waited. When no answer came, she didn't hesitate any longer, and opened it. The room was bathed in sunlight, the sparse furniture as simple as it had ever been, the only signs of it being lived in were a jacket hung on a chair, and a small frame on the nightstand.

She smiled as her eyes settled on the occupant of the room, it was a fond smile, but a bit exasperated too at the state he was in. Her husband was indeed in bed as Mrs. Hughes had said, but she wasn't expecting him to still be dressed in his valet uniform, laying on top of the sheets. His bad leg was resting on the blanket at the end of the bed, while the other was dangling off one side, all in all he looked as if he sat down and hadn't had neither the will nor the strength to get back up and change into his night clothes.

With a small sigh, she bent down and shook his shoulder, "John? John, wake up."

A moan answered her, and it took a couple more tries before she was able to elicit a better response. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused for a second, and then he gifted her with one of those small smiles of his she loved so much.

"Hello."

"Hello yourself," she huffed. "Need help?"

"Why? I'm fine where I am." He shot her a smug look, but it didn't have the desired effect with the few beads of sweat on his forehead and the paleness of his skin.

She ignored his quip, and walked to his wardrobe, quickly found what she was looking for, and turned around to see that he hadn't moved a single muscle. She sat on the bed next to him. "I'm not doing all the work here, you better help me."

"My very own valet."

"And I double as a nurse in my spare time, aren't you the lucky one."

She unbuttoned his jacket and shirt, took off his tie and collar, anything she could do while he was still lying down. Taking off his pants was done easily enough thankfully. He then tried to sit up, but he soon found out he barely had the strength, and without Anna's help would have most likely fallen back on the mattress. Anna lost her humor at the situation fairly quickly when she realized how weak he was. By the time she had her husband shirtless, he was sweating and was struggling to keep his eyes open.

"I'll help you wash a bit of that sweat off, but I need to get up to reach the bucket of water. Try to stay sit, alright?"

He nodded feebly against her shoulder, and with a squeeze on his arm, she carefully got up, fetched the water, and sat back up as fast as she could. John was swaying a bit, but it appeared he was determined not to fall asleep while she was still caring for him. She wet the cloth with cold water and slowly patted it against his broad chest, letting the drops roll down his skin, just to hear him sigh in pleasure.

"Thank you," he murmured, barely awake now.

She kissed his brow in answer, and quickly helped him in his pyjama, before telling him to lie back down, and drew the covers up to his shoulders.

"Sleep now, I'll stay here for as long as I can."

But he was already gone, eyes closed and breathing even.

* * *

Anna, to her great sadness, had to leave her husband's bedside a lot faster than she would have liked. She could not avoid her duties as a maid any longer, there were too many bedridden servants already and as a result the charge or work had at least doubled since the past couple of days. Mrs. Hughes especially was running herself ragged trying to maintain order without Mr. Carson, and only one footman, and so the only moment Anna find to go to the attics was for lunch. She had only eaten a light sandwich, and carried a tray with three bowls. She first stopped by the room of one of the maids, then Mr. Carson, who thankfully was already doing a bit better than the previous day. Last, she entered John's room without knocking, quietly slipping in.

She expected to see him still asleep, but she was surprised to see him sitting in his bed, with a book in his hand.

"Enjoying your day off, I see."

He chuckled at that, though it sounded a bit raw. "I tried getting up, and ended falling back on the bed, twice. I'm glad no one was around to see that."

Anna set the tray on the small table by the door, took the last bowl in her hands, along with a spoon, and sat down on the bed next to him.

"From Mrs. Patmore. A light broth." His grimace didn't escape her. "Are you feeling nauseous?"

"Not really. But I don't feel like eating at all. I don't think that's a good idea."

"You need your strength, John. And you didn't throw up what you ate this morning, did you? That's a good sign, surely."

He winced then, and his expression took on a slight sheepish turn. "I didn't eat anything this morning, I just had a cup of tea."

She frowned, thinking that she certainly would have noticed if he hadn't eaten a thing at breakfast, but she recalled having been in a deep talk with Mrs. Hughes about new linens for the girl's bedrooms.

"Well then, even more reasons for you to have something now. At least half of it." She gave him the spoon, which he reluctantly took, and carefully put the bowl on his lap. It wasn't filled to the brim so there wasn't a high risk of him spilling it all on his legs.

She watched him as he ate, grateful that he seemed to have a mild case of the disease like Mr. Carson and Miss Swire. He soon grew tired however, and the spoon began to shake lightly in his grip.

"Here, let me." She took it from his grasp, and dipped it back into the broth.

"That's what you were after the whole time, wasn't it? To feed me like a newborn," he joked, and she couldn't even deny it. While she hated the fact that he was unwell, she did relish being the one to care for him.

The moment finished quickly when John declared that he had had enough, she didn't insist, he had eaten a good enough portion, more than she thought he would in the first place.

"You ought to return to work, they're going to miss you down there."

"And won't you miss me?" she returned playfully, setting back the bowl and spoon on the tray, and handing him the glass of water on his nightstand.

"You occupy my thoughts every second I'm awake, you are always with me, no matter where you are."

She longed to kiss him right there, it seemed he always knew the perfect things to say to get her going, the charmer. She didn't of course, since it wouldn't be the smartest of ideas. He settled back down under the covers at her urging, and it didn't take long before he was asleep again. It was good, she thought, rest was the best of medicine, and it would only be a couple of days before he was back downstairs with her and the others.

Anna left the room then, her husband was right about the fact that she had to go back to work, there was a lot to be done and not nearly enough time in a day.


	2. Chapter 2

Mrs. Hughes knocked on the door to John Bates' room, waiting until she heard the soft "come in", not from the man itself, but from Anna, who had been at his side for quite a while now.

She walked in, a sentence already on the tip of her tongue, "I'm sorry Anna, but it's time. You need to -"

And she stopped, for she wasn't expecting the scene before her. Anna was sat on a chair near her husband's bed, a bowl of water precariously set on her lap, her back to the door. What shocked Mrs. Hughes the most, was the state Mr. Bates was in. When she had helped him to his room early in the day, he had been tired yes, a bit pale, but nothing that compared to how he looked at this moment.

She could hear his ragged breathing, and there were beads of sweat on his face that Anna was carefully wiping away with her cloth. His skin was white as a sheet, but for the flush on his cheeks, but the most worrisome of it all was how still he was. There was nothing but his harsh breaths to indicate that he was still amongst them.

Anna turned to her then, and there was no mistaking the panic in her eyes. "He's been like this for almost an hour. Nothing seems to work. I don't know what to do, Mrs. Hughes."

"Dr. Clarkson has his hands full at the hospital, but he's coming tomorrow to check on us, I'll make sure he sees Mr. Bates as soon as he's done with her Ladyship and Miss Swire." Anna nodded and turned back her gaze to Mr. Bates. He still hadn't moved an inch. "In the meantime, why don't you give him some cinnamon and milk, and aspirin? It certainly wouldn't hurt, and it's what the doctor prescribed for the others."

The young woman acquiesced. It was better than nothing, and if it could help him even the slightest, then she would still consider it a victory. She was reluctant to leave him, however, even for the few minutes it would take her to fetch it all downstairs.

"Would you mind staying with him? Please, Mrs. Hughes, I won't be long, I promise."

It was not a difficult request to agree to, and soon Mrs. Hughes had taken Anna's seat in the chair next to the bed. She waited until the door was closed behind her, to really turn her attention to the sick man.

"Well well, Mr. Bates. Look at what you make me do. A woman staying in a married man's bedroom. How scandalous."

She patted his hand, but he was still unresponsive.

"I sure hope that you do not plan on letting this disease have the better of you. And you're not fighting alone this time, not anymore. Anna is besides herself, but his Lordship worries too. He already asked twice about you since this morning."

She fiddled with the sheets covering him, not sure what to do with herself, and ended up tucking it tightly under the mattress.

"It is strange to think of how wary of you we were when you arrived, and how now it is inconceivable to imagine Downton without you. What is it that you kept saying? 'I can manage.' You have proved it many times, and now we need you to do it once again. It is indeed a terrible foe you're facing. But I have heard stories from the war in Africa, and from the state Lord Grantham was when he came home, I would say that you have faced worse odds than that."

She didn't know what to add then. A thought came back to her, of a promise he once made to her, an eternity ago it seemed, when his morale had hit a record low. It was now time for another. She was about to speak again when Anna came back into the room with the needed supplies.

"I have everything I need, Mrs. Hughes. Thank you for staying here."

"It's all right, I didn't mind in the slightest." She thought about the promise, and waiting for Anna to wake him up so that she could make sure he gave his word, but it all sounded ridiculous now. So, she got up, and made to leave. "I came here to tell you to go back to your room, that I was going to lock the door," she saw Anna was about to protest, so she raised her hand to stop her, "but I can see now that Mr. Bates needs someone to be with him at all times, so I will allow it for tonight. Those are exceptional circumstances."

Anna sighed with relief. Obviously, the thought hadn't even crossed her mind that she wouldn't be allowed to stay in her husband's bedroom. The cottage promised by Lord Grantham wasn't ready yet, and having two servants, even married, sharing the same room under this roof was unthinkable at best.

"At least, my girl, please use the second bed. I don't want to find you tomorrow morning still sitting on that chair and having stayed up all night. You need rest too."

"I will. Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. Thank you so much."

The housekeeper smiled and nodded, and with one last look at the patient, she quietly closed the door behind her, leaving the couple alone once again.

"Alright, Mr. Bates. It's time to wake up."

Anna sat back on the chair, and arranged the class of milk, and the aspiring, on the nightstand. She called for him, and shook his shoulder lightly, several times. It took quite a bit of coaxing, but finally his eyelids opened. He looked confused at first, before he turned his head towards his wife, and even managed a small smile.

"Hey," his voice was hoarse, and it barely came louder than a whisper.

"Hey yourself. How do you feel?" As soon as the words left her mouth, she inwardly rolled her eyes. The answer to that question was obvious enough.

"Pretty awful."

She smiled. "At least you're not in denial anymore, that's good." She took the pillow from the second bed, intent on making him comfortable enough to take the medicine. "Do you think you can sit up?"

In the end, she had to support him with an arm around his back so that he could lean forward long enough for her to put the pillow behind him. It frightened her, how weak he had become in such a small amount of time. She put the aspirin pill directly in his mouth, and had to help him to wash it down with a few sips of water. Her hand on his, she guided the drink to his mouth. The action was then repeated with the milk, she was glad when he finished the whole glass.

"You seem to be breathing a bit easier like that, I think you shouldn't completely lie down again."

He agreed, and so she started to fuss with the pillows to arrange them to his liking, though he barely said a word, he just let her do as she wished. She put her her hand on his forehead, and frowned. "You're still burning up. Thank God Doctor Clarkson is coming to see you in the morning."

John was struggling to stay awake now. She moved her hand from his forehead to his sweat-drenched hair, it was quite a sight, very messy, with the few lone strands she loved that almost fell over his eyes. He leaned into her touch, and closed his eyes in contentment.

"You're staying?" he whispered between two still harsh breaths. It broke her heart to see him like this.

"And where else would I go, you silly man?" she tried to put some humor in her words, but she hadn't been very successful. "Of course I'm staying here. Don't worry, I'm not leaving you."

She couldn't resist it then, and she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. It was a high risk, and not a very intelligent one, but she needed it as much as he did. It didn't take him long to fall asleep after that, leaving Anna alone with her somber thoughts.

* * *

He could smell the smoke and the burnt bodies all around him. The blood too, but that one he was so used to he barely noticed it anymore. He couldn't decide if the worst was that a lot of it wasn't his, or that his wound was bleeding so much it felt like water cascading down his skin. It hurt. It really, really hurt. There was some in his mouth. He was probably screaming, though that too, he wasn't sure about.

Someone was calling his name. Maybe. Or was he dreaming? It was hard to tell. Everything was so blurry in his mind. The heat was unbearable. It was scorching his skin and weighting on his lungs. He was burning alive, surely. That would explain the smell. And the smoke. And, the pain.

His name again. He tried to focus. It was hard to even think. Feeling, however, that he could. He didn't want to feel. Too many sensations, too much happening at once, and he was exhausted. The pain, always the pain. It overwhelmed everything else. He was terrified at the idea of opening his eyes. On a battlefield, and in hell. Hell, yes, though he was still alive.

A hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, and he flinched at the unexpected touch. Urging him to open his eyes. He didn't want to.

" _John!_ "

And just like that, he wasn't on the battlefield anymore. He felt a thin mattress underneath him, but most worryingly, belts across his arms and chest. They constricted his lungs, his struggles to get a breath of air intensifying as panic overtook him. There were so many voices around him, too many. He couldn't understand what they were saying.

It was the feel of cold metal on his skin that stilled him to a desperate level. A blade, on his thigh. Sharp, very sharp, he could already feel it cutting into his skin. Death would be too sweet a conclusion.

" _John!_ "

The voice was pulling him away. He was saying something too, but he didn't know what it was. Not likely screaming though, he was far beyond that point.

" _John!_ "

That was it. He opened his eyes. It wasn't dark like he would have expected, but lit with a warm glow coming from the lamp on his bedside.

"Oh, thank God", he heard from his left side, a tone full of concern and relief. There she was, the voice that opened a door away from the hell he was trapped in. Her face was blurry, everything was blurry, and he didn't know why.

He felt her hand brushing on his cheeks, her touch so tender it made him shiver, and not from the fever. "You were crying in your sleep."

"Is it gone?" his throat felt raw, and it hurt to speak.

"Is what gone?"

She didn't know. How could she not know? He had to check for himself. He struggled to sit up, but he did it before she had the time to react. It was still here. He let out a shaky breath of relief. It was still here.

"What are you -" and then she caught on, and followed his gaze to the end of the bed. "Yes, John, your leg is fine. It's not gone, they didn't take it." She came to sit next to him on the bed, and the dam broke, her presence next to him, his Anna, was unwavering as ever, and he leaned against her, she was his anchor to reality.

He didn't even know why he was sobbing in her embrace. It was a mix of relief, the adrenaline going down, and the fear that was still present at the back of his confused mind. He recognized now the tainted memories of pain and blood that his brain had conjured in his sleep.

"It was just a nightmare, my love, nothing more. I promise." He knew that now. But it was hard to come back to reality. And, it wasn't _just a nightmare_. Still, he needed to control himself. Slowly, with long breaths, he managed to calm himself down, and Anna let him go a little, though not completely. She was the one holding onto him.

That's when he noticed the grey bags under her eyes, and his old friend named guilt came back to him in waves. Her face was pale and drawn, and it became obvious to him that she had spent the night, and most of the day before that, looking after him.

"You need to sleep, Anna. Take care of yourself, I don't want you falling sick as well. You're already risking it enough by staying with me."

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be. Even if it robs me of my precious sleep." He smiled, but it didn't make him feel any better.

* * *

It wasn't that she regretted staying up all night. She would do it again, and was probably going to tonight as well. The problem was, that her eyes stinged, and she made mistake after mistake. Mrs. Hughes was very understanding of course, but there would be a point, in the very near future, when even the kind matron would snap.

She did try to sleep for an hour or two, but her worry for the man in the twin bed next to her overwhelmed all the exhaustion she was feeling, and she hadn't managed to keep her eyes closed for more than a few minutes at once.

One more distraction added to her busy mind was the fact that Dr. Clarkson was currently visiting the many patients of the Abbey, and her eyes kept wandering to the ceiling, curious about whether or not the man had already been to see John or not. Most likely not, she thought, her mind far away from the mending she was doing in one of Lady Edith's dresses, the good doctor would have seen to her Ladyship first and then Miss Swire, there were also Mr. Carson and a maid, the odds were that her husband would be one of the last ones on the long list.

"Anna, are you still not done? I told you 10 minutes ago I needed help with the flowers in the library."

Mrs. Hughes' voice brought her back from her reverie in a startle, and she brought her pricked finger to her mouth. "I'm almost done, Mrs. Hughes. I'm sorry, I'll be here in a moment."

The older woman sighed, "you're of no use in that state, girl, and there's enough bedridden staff to add distracted maids to the lot, thank you very much."

Anna was about to answer, to again apologize for her behavior, but Mrs. Hughes beat her to the punch. "Why don't you go outside for a minute or two? Breathe a bit and clear your mind? I know you can't help but to worry, but there is nothing to be done at least until Dr. Clarkson finishes his round, and it may not be for a while yet."

She wanted to protest, she really did, but in the end, she kept her stubborn thoughts to herself, and went to do as the housekeeper had said. She thanked her, and went outside in the backyard, where many things had happened in the last few years. She sat on one of the ever present crates, decided that she wouldn't take more than a couple of minutes, then go back to work and forget about everything but what was asked of her; She was ashamed enough already of how remiss in her work she had been, to keep on going that way. It was all going to be alright.

* * *

By luck, she was still upstairs in the library when she heard Dr. Clarkson's voice coming down the main staircase, with Lady Edith at his side. Lady Mary soon joined them, and soon many were gathered to hear what the news were.

"Please doctor, how are they? We're all anxious to know," Lady Mary took over, and for that Anna was thankful. She needed answers herself, and her Lady was not known for her patience.

"Well, both Carson and Miss Swire seem to have escaped the worst of it. Not that they shouldn't be looked after carefully, but they are in the green zone I would dare say. Her Ladyship on the other hand is not faring as well, she is doing much worse than during my last visit, someone needs to be with her at all times, I would have sent a nurse to stay here, but I can't spare even one person from the hospital."

"Wouldn't it be better for her to stay there then? We can drive her ourselves in the car."

"In any other scenario I would have said yes, my Lady. However to be perfectly honest with you, I'm not sure the hospital can provide better care than here where she is at home. You have Lady Sybil as well, who I must say is more than qualified to take over. Should her state become too unstable, then by all means call me."

He took a deep breath then, knowing that he wasn't reassuring this group of people standing around him, but it was inevitable. He himself could do with a bit of reassuring, but it was not to be.

"You have to understand, Lady Mary, that the Spanish Flu is nothing like we've seen before. Sometimes it kills in a matter of hours, even the most healthy of young people. It spreads so quickly that quarantines barely have any effect in slowing it down. In fact, there are a certain number of security measures that you would do well to apply to the letter. This household is amongst the most lucky ones I've seen so far, in regards to your number of ills, so let's try not to change that."

Doctor Clarkson then went on on those said measures, sometimes repeating himself to make sure everything was well understood and would be relayed to the other people in the house. Anna tried to listen as best as could and memorize them, but inside she was frenetic. She _had_ to know.

Soon enough, the doctor made to leave, and as some of the others began to walk away, Anna stepped forward. She cleared her throat, "excuse me, doctor Clarkson?"

"Yes?" He turned around to face her, and his features softened. "My apologies, Anna. In my haste I forgot to tell you about my examination of Mr. Bates." He took a deep breath then, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. "I fear Mr. Bates is in a similar state as her Ladyship. Our best bet right now is to reduce the symptoms and try to make him as comfortable as possible while his body fights off the disease."

The only thing she got out of this was that doctor Clarkson didn't know much more than her about what do to, and that there was no cure, nothing but household remedies and prayers.

* * *

For a little while, as he tried to get his brain working again, John thought his fingers and toes had gone numb from the cold, though in one of his very few moments of lucidity he realized that there hadn't been any consequent drop in temperature in the last couple of hours. There wasn't any frost on the window frame like it was prone to do in winter, the last rays of the sun shining through the glass, in fact, the day had seemed quite beautiful from what little he could see, his head too heavy to lift from the pillow to investigate any more. No, the problem was coming from _within_.

He knew he was sweating and shaking at the same time, and he wasn't too far gone yet to not realize what was happening to him. He could almost still feel doctor Clarkson's fingers on his throat, as well as the metal of the stethoscope on the bare skin of his chest. He was exhausted and yet he hadn't done anything but lay lifeless as he was examined. He had been given instructions, he seemed to recall, but his tired and foggy mind had barely been able to understand them, let alone remember. The hammer in his head was making too much of a commotion for him to be focusing on anything.

His eyes were dropping shut again at the rhythm of the funny noises his lungs were making at every intake of breath, when he heard footsteps outside his room, before there was a faint squeak and the door opened. Had there even been a knock? He didn't know.

"You awake, Mr. Bates?"

Certainly not the sweet voice of his wife, or the Scottish accent of Mrs. Hughes. He turned his head very slowly, feeling his damp hair rub on the pillow. Indeed here he was, Thomas, who had a tray on his arm, which he quickly set down on the small table next to him.

"Wha…" his throat was so parched he couldn't let out more than a weak whisper, if only the glass of water wasn't as far as it was, he would have reached for it, so he satisfied himself with clearing his throat, wincing at the pain it elicited, "what are you doing here, Thomas?"

"As pleasant as ever, Mr. Bates, I'm happy to see you're still yourself. Good evening to you too." His eyes seemed to be scrutinising him and a frown began to form on the young face, John could only imagine what he must look like at the moment, but he was way beyond caring.

He was tired, so tired, the cold was coming from his very bones, he just wanted to sleep, his eyelids were already halfway closed, but he struggled to push through, one last time, "Where's Anna? Is... she a'right?"

"Upset, angry, but fine. She's resting, now. Mrs. Hughes forbid her to come back here until tomorrow." Oh, how he longed for her presence at his side. Only her could soothe him, only her could help him fight back against what was ailing him. But it wasn't to be for now, and dwelling on it now would be far too taxing.

And so, the last thing John saw before he fell into unconsciousness was Thomas' blurry, but smirking face right above him. "Guess who's going to be your nurse for the night, Mr. Bates?"


End file.
